A Gentle Questioning

Writers: Devin, Estelle
Date Posted: 10th July 2022

Characters: R'ayl, R'lor
Description: R'lor tries to find out more about the mysterious Master that R'ayl was writing to.
Location: Dolphin Cove Weyr
Date: month 9, day 18 of Turn 10
Notes: Mentioned: Enali

R'lor

The first day of weyrling training had passed by in a blur of new
sensations for R'ayl. He'd rejoined his class after breakfast, and then
they'd gone from class to feeding a ravenous Delorth to snatching a
quick meal, then classes and then back to feeding again. He had learned
to cut up meat with the help of an older weyrling, although the metallic
scent of blood made him faintly nauseous, bringing back memories of the
day before. Delorth's hunger had overcome his wariness of the meat,
though, and he'd declared himself willing to eat what R'ayl had chopped
himself.

Finally, they were dismissed to the barracks. Since he'd been in the
infirmary the night before, R'ayl hung back, unsure whether he'd been
assigned a place or not, when he heard Delorth's sleepy voice telling
him that Kularth's rider was looking for him. He froze, his stomach
knotting despite the reassurance the day before that he wasn't in trouble.

"Ah, R'ayl there you are." R'lor said as he approached slowly. "Would
you mind going for a walk after you settle Delorth?" He thought that
might be less intimidating than going to his office.

"Y...yes, sir." R'ayl felt a nudge at his side, Delorth's small sea-blue
head pressing against him, and the strange, still-new sensation of the
dragonet's love and protectiveness.

He led the little blue into the weyrlings' quarters and saw an empty
dragon couch near the back, one of the smaller ones. The cot beside it
had a neat pile of his belongings on it, which someone must have brought
over from the candidate barracks. Once in the couch, Delorth immediately
curled up with his head resting on his forepaws and sighed as he drifted
into a deep sleep. R'ayl wanted very much to stay with him, unnoticed
amid the noise of the older boys talking and laughing together, but he
knew he couldn't keep the Weyrlingmaster Third waiting, so he went back
out into the warm evening air.

R'lor smiled gently when R'ayl emerged. "Come along, then. You're not
in any trouble, but I'm hoping you might be able to help us." He set
off toward the beach.

"Help you, sir?" R'ayl followed, wondering how he could possibly be of
any help to the weyrling staff.

"You mentioned you wrote to your Master at the Hall, that he said he
would help you clear your brother's name." R'lor glanced at the boy,
then looked off toward the water. "Did he say anything about how he
might do that?"

"Not really." R'ayl hesitated. Master Shuvan had been the only person to
show him any kindness at the Weaver Hall, and the only one outside his
own family who cared about Grevan. He didn't want to cause him any
trouble. And although he'd talked about bringing change to the Weyr,
he'd surely meant good changes, not the awful crime of poisoning the
hatchlings. "He asked me to watch and learn about the Weyr, and write
back to him about what I found out."

R'lor's stomach sank. "And what did you write to him?"

"Mostly things we learned in Candidate classes. Like who holds rank at
the Weyr, and how it's different from Hall and Hold, and about the
different dragon colors. What to do at the Hatching, like thinking
welcoming thoughts to the hatchlings, and what happens if we Impress,
how we need to feed..." The boy's voice trailed off and he slowed to a
stop, his pale face losing color.

R'lor watched R'ayl make the connection. "When and what we feed the
hatchlings? You do know what that sounds like, don't you?"

R'ayl nodded mutely, a sensation of creeping dread growing in him, that
what had happened to Delorth might have been his fault. He had written
and told Master Shuvan all about the class on the Hatching, and how
after Impression, the new weyrlings would have to guide their hatchlings
out to where the meat pails would be waiting. And then, later, about
their visit to the dragon infirmary, and how they'd been told that a
dragon must never be given fellis.

"But...he's a _Master_. He couldn't have. He wasn't even there, I don't
think." He'd not seen the Master Weaver in the crowd, though it had all
been a blur. He stared down at the sand. "He was kind to me."

The Weyrlingmaster Third patted his shoulder. "He may have done so to
take advantage of you. What is this Master's name?"

The boy hesitated. How could he betray the only man who'd ever wanted to
help his family? And yet - someone had tried to hurt Delorth. "Will he
be in trouble?"

R'lor pressed his lips together before letting out a sigh. "If he was
actually involved with this... R'ayl, he tried to kill Delorth. To
kill all of the hatchlings." The horror of it washed over him again.

Despite the warmth of the evening, R'ayl shivered, remembering what he'd
shared through that new, fragile bond with his blue hatchling, the pain
and terror that had poisoned the first moments of their life together.
He recalled his Master's kindly voice, speaking of shifting the warp and
weaving of the Weyr. Then he thought of the others who'd been kind. The
Weyrhealer who'd told him he could be strong and healthy, his fellow
Candidates who'd helped him with classes and chores, the Weyrlingmaster
himself. The dragonriders had saved his mother and sister from the fire.
Enali had told him it was all false, but what if she was wrong?

"I don't know who to trust," he said softly, feeling the tears prickling
in his eyes.

"Would you like a hug, lad?" R'lor opened his arms. Thinking about how
this Master and whoever else had used this sweet boy made him even
angrier.

R'ayl brushed at his eyes with the back of his hand and sniffed, and
then slowly, he nodded. Reassured by the look in the Weyrlingmaster's
eyes, he stepped closer and let the man's arms wrap around him. He felt
safe, like he did when he was near to one of the dragons he'd met at the
Weyr.

"Master Shuvan," he said, his voice hardly more than a whisper.

R'lor had to fight down the urge to run straight to the Weyrleader
with that information. He took a breath and tightened his arms around
R'ayl. "Thank you for telling me."

"I promised Delorth I'd never let anyone hurt him again." R'ayl blinked
back tears, remembering that awful time after the Hatching. "Maybe
Master Shuvan didn't have anything to do with it. But if he did, and it
was because of what I wrote, then it's my fault it happened. Enali was
right."

"You didn't know, lad." R'lor patted his back. "If this Master Shuvan
tricked you into giving him information, that's on him."

"But if I hadn't come here, if I'd stayed at the Weaver Hall..." R'ayl
remembered how he'd broken his promise to his mother by coming to the Weyr.

"Then what would have happened to Delorth?"

"Maybe he would have chosen someone else?" R'ayl voice faltered. "And he
wouldn't have been poisoned."

"Maybe he wouldn't have found the right match," R'lor said. "Maybe he
would have died alone on those Sands."

R'ayl bit his lip. If there was anything worse than the thought of
Delorth dying, it was him dying alone. And there was no changing the
past, as his mother had often told them. "I don't know...but I'll try to
be a good rider to him. I really will."

"I'm sure you will. Delorth chose well." R'lor smiled. "I should let
you get back to him." And R'lor needed to report this to the
Weyrleader. Accusing a Master Crafter of conspiring against the Weyr
was going to be no easy thing, but that was the leadership's problem
to deal with.

"Thank you, Weyrlingmaster." The boy brightened at the thought of being
with his dragonet again. Even now, when Delorth was sleeping, he could
sense the newly made bond between them, reassuring and constant. As he
returned to the barracks, he thought that perhaps it would turn out that
it was all a mistake, and the kindly Master Weaver had known nothing
about the poison plot. That would surely be for the best.

Last updated on the July 15th 2022

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A Gentle Questioning